


A Promise

by Sir_Lupa



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A bit of sweet stuff though, After ep 179 by at least a couple days, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I am not ready for the future episodes man, Jon and Martin talk about their grim future, M/M, Martin POV, Martin cries I'm sorry, Some time before episode 193, s a d, they love each other very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Lupa/pseuds/Sir_Lupa
Summary: Martin grows concerned about why Jon is no longer open about when he's in physical or emotional pain. He confronts Jon about it as they travel, and has him make a promise that the archivist may not be able to keep.The likelihood of Jon making it out of ending the apocalypse is slim, and Martin wishes things were different.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	A Promise

Dark trees with stretched boughs loomed eerily over the dim forest. No ambient noises of birds or fauna echoed through the shifting limbs. The sounds of creaking wood and rustling leaves served as an uneasy reminder that it was no ordinary forest, as there was no wind to sway the treetops and the stagnant scent of decay clung to the air. It was as dangerous as any other apocalyptic domain.

Martin marched wearily onward, keeping his eyes focused on the forest floor to avoid slipping into a murky puddle or tripping on an unseen branch. Jon powered on ahead of him, weaving easily between the trees and obstacles, not even glancing back to see if his partner was following behind. Anytime Martin slowed, the archivist would also slow down. Anytime Martin stopped, Jon stopped. He rarely looked back to check, but he knew when to adjust. He always knew.

A slight limp would occasionally make an appearance in Jon’s gait, leaving uneven footprints amongst the otherwise confident strides in the dirt and mud. Martin peered ahead and saw that the limp had returned ever so slightly. The memory of blood and distress and the death of Daisy clawed its way into his mind and he struggled to shake it out. When he looked back up, he saw Jon looking at him with concern.

“I said not to look into my mind, Jon. We’ve talked about this.” Martin sighed, tired irritation weighing him down.

His boyfriend simply raised an eyebrow, “I wasn’t, sorry. I just noticed you seemed a bit distressed.”

He almost didn’t answer, but the worry on Jon’s already emotionally exhausted face shoved guilt deep into Martin’s heart.

“I’m fine. Just thinking, I guess.” The ghost of a reassuring smile quickly returned to its grave as he spoke, “That doesn’t really sound convincing, though, does it?”

Jon slowed his pace to match Martin’s. He flowed smoothly as the taller man struggled to focus on both the uneven terrain and the archivist at the same time. The faint traces of a limp melted away and the archivist matched his partner’s hesitant strides. He did not question Martin right away, but rather peered at him calmly and expectantly.

Martin glanced at Jon’s face, avoiding his stare despite the overwhelming desire to lose himself in it. He once had such beautiful eyes. It was getting harder and harder to meet the archivist’s gaze; he’d found out a while ago that it felt like more than one pair of eyes were peering back at him when he looked into them.

Jon still managed to catch his eye, however, and the feeling of being trapped overwhelmed him.

He slammed his eyes shut and turned away quickly, a branch snatched at his pant leg and almost yanked him to the ground. Mud curled over the top of his shoes as he planted his feet and remained firmly upright. He could hear Jon hesitantly come to a stop, as well as the uncertain click of his teeth as he more than likely prevented himself from making a remark about needing to keep moving.

“Martin, are you-?”

“I told you I’m fine, Jon! I’m fine. I’m- “ Shame burned in his gut, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

Stone features weathered by time and internalized suffering betrayed little emotion, but apprehension still managed to flit across Jon’s face, “It’s okay. I’m sorry for pressuring you.”

A wave of rustling branches covered in grey and brown leaves filled the silent gap between them. Martin stared down at the cold mud and dead foliage, trying desperately to avoid looking into those somehow soulful, soulless eyes of his partner.

“It’s- it’s not that.” He mumbled tiredly.

In the corner of his vision, he could see Jon looking up at the looming trees with furrowed brows. The archivist stepped forward, looking back to see if Martin would follow. When the taller man did not, Jon stopped, sinking slightly into the mud. He did not push for any further information, but his hands twitched anxiously as he waited.

“You’ve been limping, Jon. You said you heal fast, but it’s been a long time since…” Martin trailed off. His heart and throat ached.

Jon inhaled deeply, “I do heal fast, but I still get scars. I don’t know if they will last forever, but for now they’re just something I deal with.”

Satisfied that he had eased Martin’s mind enough, he started to continue onward through the rancid woodland.

“Does it hurt?” Martin’s voice became lost amongst the horrible creaking cacophony above their heads.

The archivist turned around to face him, “What?”

“Your scars, do they hurt?”

Martin looked up to see Jon’s surprised, yet pained face. The smaller man rubbed one of his scarred arms tenderly before shrugging, “Sometimes. Not always. I guess I’m still human in some ways.”

Something bubbled up inside him; emotions and thoughts all clamored to be heard, but the words to express them evaded Martin. The revolting squelch of soggy earth let him know that Jon was continuing on, just as relentless in his journey as always. Reluctantly, he followed.

When he glanced up again, Jon was just at the edge of his sight, almost disappearing between the trees as his thin form moved sure-footedly ahead. Clumsy, blundering steps was all Martin could muster as he walked. Another branch, seemingly out of nowhere, clawed at his pant leg and dragged him to his knees with a silence-piercing rip and a sting of pain.

Cursing under his breath, he snatched the shredded fabric back from the offending limb. Jon appeared by his side and helped him to his feet. Martin glared at the mud caked on his lower legs and wiped his hands off on his trousers in exasperation.

“I’m sick of this!” He spat, “Downright sick of all of this.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Martin. We just have to keep moving and we will eventually be out of here.” Jon reassured, sympathetically looking up at him.

Putting a bit more aggression than necessary into the action, Martin shook the mud from his pants as his boyfriend waited patiently. When he was done, he looked up to see Jon offering his hand to hold as they walked. With a sigh, he accepted the more than tempting proposition.

“It’s not just this…” Martin explained tentatively, “Domain, that I’m sick of. I just want things to go back to normal.”

Jon stepped over a log, steadying both himself and Martin as he did so. As soon as both of them were solidly on the ground again, he spoke in a simple, reverent hush; “Me too.”

An ache filled Martin’s heart. The comfort and domesticity of the cabin in Scotland was a distant memory. ‘Normal’ was a fading past with an indiscernible future.

Martin could tell that there was a hesitancy in the way Jon talked about the future. It wasn’t just the persistent doubt that they’d even be able to do anything about stopping the horrors of the apocalypse. Every time he caught Jon staring at him, it was like he was drinking in the very image of Martin; as though he was constantly afraid it would be the last time he saw him. Occasionally, when his hopes managed to reappear, Martin would try to strike up a conversation with his boyfriend about enjoying the world when everything was back to normal. He quickly stopped trying when all Jon would give him was an attempt at an endearing smile in response. The agonized look that seemed to always be resting beneath Jon’s features would resurface as the smile crumbled and left Martin feeling gut-wrenching guilt.

Deep down, Martin knew why Jon was hesitant about the future. He was just too scared to think about it.

As they walked, the stinging cut from the branch on Martin’s leg grew. It got bad enough that Jon finally noticed the grimace on his face that came with each step.

“Are you hurt?” Jon questioned, looking him up and down.

Martin sighed, “I’m still fine, Jon. You shouldn’t be asking after me so much.”

That earned Martin a confused look of concern, “I’m sorry?”

“You worry about me too much,” He murmured, “I know you are hurting, Jon. We both are, but I know that you blame yourself for a lot of it.”

Jon slowed his pace as he listened attentively. He remained silent, but his face betrayed the many thoughts and emotions shifting through him.

Martin gave the small hand in his grasp a reassuring squeeze, “I love you. It hurts to see you in so much pain. You ask after me so often, please let me ask after you for once without shrugging me off. I _know_ you’re not okay.”

After a moment of silence, he nodded, “Let’s rest for now. I have to think about it.”

Martin waited for more of a response, but received none.

Rarely did Jon ever ask to stop. He was constantly on the move and was always anxiously preparing for whatever was next. Martin remained quiet and let his partner lead him to a clearing of logs and rocks so they could rest.

The unnerving atmosphere stripped away the desire to sit next to each other. Another wave of sound washed over them from above, breaking the tension between them. Martin looked around nervously, the area was strangely devoid of the typical horrors they encountered. When he looked back at Jon, he noticed that his partner had been staring at him with that forlorn look again, taking in every bit of Martin with tired, loving eyes that held more than they portrayed.

Jon spoke in the same hushed tone from before, “I’m sorry, Martin. I haven’t always been open with you.”

“No, you haven’t,” Martin lamented, “You haven’t been as open as I’d like on a lot of things. I just want you to know it’s okay to tell me when you’re in pain. Especially since you always check up on me in one way or another. You’re not alone out here, we have each other.”

While it was intended to be comforting, Martin watched Jon’s face twist briefly with deep, emotional pain. The cold air wrapped around them without a breeze, eliciting shivers amongst the foliage.

“Now is a good a time as any to talk, I suppose.” Jon shivered, “Things hurt a lot out here. I hurt a lot out here. I made this world, Martin. This was my doing, and I am putting you through hell every single day. While I mourn the suffering of everyone on this forsaken world, I ache at the fact that you suffer because of it.”

Jon shivered again in the breezeless chill, he looked like any moment his weak frame would simply crumble apart and sink into the grey mud at his feet.

Martin removed his coat and placed it around Jon’s shoulders, “We are working to fix it. We’ve talked about this, it’s not your fault.”

He sat back down a bit closer to the archivist. He watched as Jon wrapped the coat around himself; it was much too big for him, but he looked warmer already.

“You keep saying that, Martin. I have yet to believe it.” He whispered, his posture solemn and ridden with guilt.

“We’ll fix it. We just have to keep hoping.”

Jon looked up at Martin with that same agonized look that always made an appearance when the topic of ending the apocalypse was brought up. Dampened anguish resurfaced in his gut as he looked at the archivist.

“Please, Jon. We have to have faith that we can make it right.” His voice broke, “I know it hurts, but we can do it.”

The frail man shook his head, “It’s not that I don’t think we can. I feel like we can do it, I’m just afraid of what it will cost.”

A deep sigh helped Martin recollect himself as he listened. He looked down at his palms and grasped his trousers to get his hands to stop shaking.

“No matter what happens, I’ll take care of you. I love you so much. If it takes away your eyes, your mind, or _anything_ I will still love you. No matter what it costs you.” The shaking in his voice made it hard to breathe.

Chilly air enveloped them again and Jon disappeared further into Martin’s coat. He looked so small, but so determined. His weathered, scarred face still held dozens of conflicting emotions, and yet he sat firmly before Martin.

Jon did not meet his eye until he spoke again, “Even if it costs you your life? Or mine?”

Deafening silence reigned for once in the forest. Martin sat frozen, the only movement his trembling limbs. He knew this was bound to come up. He’d known it for so long. Some days he felt the remarkable urge to grab Jon’s hand and march him somewhere safe, where they could stay forever and be happy. But he knew they couldn’t do that. No matter how much Martin wanted to grasp the front of Jon’s shirt and plead and beg for him to stay and to live, he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Martin, I won’t let you die. I would die a thousand deaths before I’d let that happen.”

Looking up from his hands, Martin saw Jon’s calm resolve and composure bleed through the pain he tried so hard to hide.

A stiff sigh escaped his mouth, “That’s the thing, Jon. We only have one life each, and I want to spend mine with you.”

Stifling fumes of decay almost made him gag on his words, but he still maintained his pointed stare. His heart was beating too fast.

“I love you, Martin Blackwood, but I don’t think we are going to have that luxury.” He murmured, drawing the coat even tighter about him.

As the shaking consumed him, Martin jumped up, startling Jon as he did so. “Who says that we aren’t going to have that?! This whole damn world doesn’t make any sense, how do we know for certain?”

He started to pace, but quickly stopped and held himself tightly to try and calm the trembling that wracked his whole body. Even as he felt his mind slipping and his throat closing, he could see Jon in his peripheral vision sitting somberly. No response reached his ears and he eventually looked up from where he had been staring intently anywhere besides his partner. Jon remained seated on his log, looking smaller and smaller and his eyes lost the depth of the Ceaseless Watcher as they filled with accepted grief. Not for himself, but for Martin. For what Martin would have to go through alone.

“Maybe things will be different. Maybe we won’t even get to Jonah. If that’s the case, then I am so, so sorry, regardless.” He relented cautiously, “I am willing to do anything it takes to mend my mistakes, for you and everyone else. You shouldn’t have to live in this terrible, unforgivable world because of me.”

Hot tears rolled down Martin’s face and his fists ached as he clenched them, “I forgive the world because it has you in it, Jon.”

“Martin-“ He Started.

“No! Don’t. I want everything to stop being horrible and terrifying and gruesome so very badly. I do, I really do.” He shuddered as he inhaled, “Not just because it’s the right thing to do. You promised not to leave me behind again. You promised. Please, please promise that you will try your hardest not to fucking die. Please… I can’t lose you, too.”

Martin blinked away his tears, his passionate outburst already fading. He reached up to wipe his eyes when he felt Jon gently take his hand into his own. He leaned into his touch as his partner’s other hand reached up and wiped the tears from his face. Grief pulled at his heart strings, but he still looked down at Jon with tender, aching eyes.

“For you, I would promise to drag the stars and sun back and to set everything right. I promise I’ll do my best to survive, for you, Martin Blackwood.”

Jon leaned against him softly, letting Martin hold onto him tightly.

“I’m going to hold you to that.” He shuddered.

“I know. I know…”

Martin held onto him tightly, wanting desperately to never let him go again.

The world would never be the same without his Jon.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this. I am so not ready for the upcoming episodes, guys. Please take care.
> 
> Credit to Tiktok user @your.ghost.pal for the quote: "I forgive the world because it has you in it."


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